FF 157: Remembrance
by liaSonlovR
Summary: LIASON. Short. 11.


Hey everyone!

I have a horrible cold; I'm home alone on a Saturday night, and I don't have anything else to do, so I thought, what the heck, why not write some Liason fiction?

This is my second attempt at a Flash Fic, so being the 13-year old growing writer that I am, I know it's gonna suck, but oh, well. I hope I don't kill the prompt too much.

Prompt: "It was a dark and stormy night…"

FF: 157: Remembrance

Asshole.

That was putting it pretty loosely. After so many years of heartache and humiliation that she had been put through from the infamous Lucky Spencer, you'd think that he'd stop, and have a heart. You'd think that after pledging his love for her countless times, and giving her a ring on one bent knee that he couldn't possible afford, he'd actually want to have a commitment, a marriage. Or did those words and actions spell out something else for him?

But no. Elizabeth had the decency and the heart to forgive Sarah, her sister who had betrayed her so many times, when she had slept with Lucky when they were together, but she actually had the _nerve_ to sleep with Elizabeth's fiancé the night before her wedding? Did that girl have a freakin' death wish?

Maybe Lucky wanted one more fling before he settled into a new life. Maybe he wanted to make sure if he was choosing the right sister. Or maybe he already knew what he wanted: an oblivious wife, and a sister in-law on the side. But either way, he'd wind up alone. By the time he found Elizabeth gone, Sarah would be on her way to the airport, and back to Europe, far away from Port Charles and Lucky. Did he honestly think that he could have his cake and eat it too?

That thought just made her laugh out loud, and break the thick silence in the room. She could imagine finding Lucky all alone in the empty decorated room, staring at the extravagant and expensive wedding cake. She'd have to ask Emily for a Polaroid of that one, if at all possible. But if not, she could just paint it herself. What better thing would help her cope with this betrayal than her love for painting? She'd title it: The Betrayal: The Saga Continues.

But what Elizabeth even more angrier is that Sarah always claimed to be so honest, so true, open to anything, wouldn't lower herself to other people's standards, would think things through and rationally; and yet here she was, for the i second /i time, helping Lucky cheat on her sister – again.

How could I have been so blind? Elizabeth thought to herself. However, the second that thought ran through her mind, she let it stop right there. There was no way she was going to blame herself for something that was so out of the blue, something that she imagined would never happen again.

Sure, she had made some mistakes; inviting Sarah being one of the obvious ones, but there was no way that she could have prevented this "affair." There was no way she would've known that all the heartfelt words of devotion Lucky had spilled to her, was all a bunch of crap. She knew from past experiences that blaming herself just made things worse. Instead, Elizabeth was so incredibly glad that this had happened before the wedding. What if she found out after she had gotten pregnant with Lucky's baby? What if Sarah and Elizabeth had gotten pregnant at the same time? What if Elizabeth never found out? That thought sent a slight tremor to her hands on the black leather steering wheel. Her heart started to beat a tad bit faster, as the whole meaning of her last thought slowly seeped into her mind.

Grams had always told her to find the good in every situation, no matter how bad of one it was. And for once, Elizabeth took her advice, knowing that it would help, because whatever her Grams had said or done to her, it was only for Elizabeth's good, and when it was about Elizabeth, her Grams only had good intentions, whether or not Elizabeth actually agreed or disagreed with them.

The good… Elizabeth started to make a mental list in her mind. What good can there be from a situation like _this_? She thought. It's impossible.

But as she racked her brain for at least one good reason, so many all at once unexpectedly showed up. For one thing, he had proposed in the same park that she had been raped because of his incessant infatuation with her sister. The nerve of that man! And what made him even _more_ stupid, was that not only did he propose in that particular park, but in front of the same bench she had been frightfully sitting on many years ago? Now that was something that Elizabeth wondered why she had never thought of before. It was so obvious; she honestly didn't know how she had missed it.

She pulled the hair band from the tight ponytail, and let her wavy brown hair fall freely and loosely around her thin neck.

Oh well, Elizabeth thought, as she shrugged her shoulders slightly. Better late than never right?

Right. And with that final thought, Elizabeth entered the empty freeway, very well aware of the fact that it was well past midnight, the sky was pitch black, and the only thing she could see, was the paved road, enhanced by her shiny headlights, as the red arrow on her odometer was quickly moving to the green neon number that she had never in her driving existence had ever even come close to: 100.

"Can I come?"

As far as Jason Morgan could remember, (which wasn't really much), every time Sam would ask to ride his motorcycle with him, Jason would always automatically deny her without even thinking about it. He had no clue as to why he felt that his bike was something that was private, but what made things even more weird, was that he thought that it was private between him and someone else. But who? From what he knew about his past life from Sam, his only friends were her, Emily Carly and Sonny. So who could that "special someone" be? It obviously wasn't Sam, which was kind of weird, since she claimed that he devotedly loved – err - loves her.

He threw his leather jacket on his broad, muscular body, and took his keys from the desk near the door.

"No."

She seemed taken aback by the harshness in his tone, but then brushed it off, just like the many other signs that were right in front of her face about how annoyed Jason really was of her.

Jason then turned around and left the penthouse, in desperate need for a ride on his bike.

How could I have fallen for that? Jason wondered to himself. He was glad that he didn't remember her and their "memories" together. Last night, she even tried to make him eat Chinese food, and play dominoes. What kind of a mobster plays dominoes? Pool? sure. But dominoes? Don't old men play that in the park?

When he reached the garage, he scanned the area in search of his bike. He found it next to the Black Sedan, and started walking towards it. He quickly put the keys in the ignition and revved the engine. He then quickly sped out of the garage, wanting – no – needing, to be free.

The wind tousling her hair, the loud rock music blaring through the speakers, there was no other way Elizabeth would have wanted to be at the moment.

Well, there actually was one other way, but the idea was too far-fetched to even consider it longer than a second, so she just settled for her second choice.

She grinned devilishly when her speed increased to 120. Hmmm…. She wondered. Can I make it to 150?

Jason sped along the empty highway, the strong wind disheveling his sun-kissed blonde spikes. He couldn't even remember the last time he went on a ride; that's how long it had been. As his thoughts wandered over random topics, the sudden bright light that shone in the corner of his eye was a stark contrast to the pitch black night, illuminated by the heavy rain drops falling from the dark sky. He quickly turned his head to see if anyone else was driving in the freeway, but being how late it was, no one was there but him, and the victim in the crashed car.

He immediately slowed his rapid pace and directed the bike toward the totaled vehicle. Parking his bike, he turned off the ignition and swung his leg to the ground. He walked slowly to the vehicle, and for some reason, he felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He walked over to the driver's side and peered in through the shattered window.

There lay an unconscious petite brunette, leaning against the leather seat, the crimson blood sloping down her porcelain cheeks.

Shaking out of his trance, Jason sprung into action. He ran around the car and pulled open the passenger's door.

At first glance, the leather jacket on the seat seemed all too familiar to him. His hand gently picked up the worn coat, and immediately, everything rushed back to him.

The important things.

_Do you know what nothing feels like?_

_Yeah. That's pretty much where I live_

_This painting belongs on the wall of the man who taught me to see the wind in the first place._

_You smell like snow_

_I want you._

His heart skipped a beat.

"Elizabeth."


End file.
